


The Practice of Compassion

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), The Beguiled (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Civil War, Credence Barebone Crying During Sex, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Emotional handjobs, Facial Shaving, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Smut, IRISH!PERCIVAL Graves, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Non-Graphic Violence, Religious Guilt, Sexual Tension, Smitten Original Percival Graves, but its ME, fast scorch, graves in houseshoes, graves shushing, irish graves, of certain ScEnEs, re deux, soft sweet sin, sorry its a new trope, sponge bath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 17:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: The Irish Union soldier who was found in the apple groves has yet to wake up, but when he does, he will change more than one life forever.





	The Practice of Compassion

**Author's Note:**

> spot all the references.

“Credence… stop standing around being useless. Go take care of the yankee! When you’re through cleaning him you can get to work on the mess out in the hall. No need for that mud to dry on our nice wood floors.”

He ducked his head and nodded, accepting the pitcher of water, ceramic basin and torn makeshift rag, before continuing on down the hall which ma shoved him towards. They’d put the yankee, or the Union soldier into the music room, far enough away from the girls, and on the first floor so he’d need to tackle stairs to get to any of their rooms. Credence slept further down, in a room off of the kitchen, but he would be in no danger from a man, so ma had said. He tried not to look at the soldier, unconscious and splayed out on the bench, likely only so because of the pain from his injury. Ma had done her best to clean the wound and bandage it, so that he wouldn’t bleed out completely before the Confederates passed by and they could turn him over, but Credence was staring blankly at so much skin bared by the man’s shirt and jacket having been removed with scissors.

He still had to work on the leaf and drying mud coated pants, though the soldier’s boots had been thankfully removed, most likely by one of the younger girls, who had more strength than they seemed. His hands shook as he set down the items in hand, and moved to pick up the medical scissors for use once more, starting carefully at the man’s ankle, before cutting off the sock and up his pant leg, only slowing upon reaching his thigh, and then halting altogether at the soldier’s hip. Dimly he wondered if he should stop, and leave the man some modesty.

He had plenty of linen rags, a whole sheet’s worth had been torn up by an overzealous Chastity, and passed along to ma, then him, as they had expected there to be more wounds to bandage just going off the amount of blood. He drew in a ragged breath, and continued on, cutting away every bit of the seam, so that he could pull off the man’s trousers completely. He did his best to stare pointedly at the soldier’s knees, before putting heavy swathes of fabric over his mid-section and stomach, intending only to move the pieces when it was time to bathe that area. He started by cleaning the man’s face, and washing the dirt from the soldier’s beard, wiping his brow with tenderness that surprised even him. He supposed, just in case the man should wake, he wouldn’t want to alarm him, or hurt him with any accidental roughness of his movements.

Credence stepped away to rinse the rag, and wring it out before returning, and shifting down, wiping carefully down his neck, and over the man’s broad shoulders, avoiding saturating the bandages on his ribs. He could feel a steady thumping of the man’s heart beneath his hand, in contrast to how his own felt as if it might just pound right out of his chest altogether. That was his wickedness, his sinful nature coming to a head, just like ma had always said. He’d thought his temptation would come in the form of attraction for one of his most godly sisters, but instead it had manifested in the form of a handsome stranger, a soldier belonging to the enemy, and worst of all, a man.

His fingers trembled as he moved down past the ladder of the man’s ribs, skirting the uninjured side of his chest and stomach, halting just before the edge of fabric, and he coughed, before stepping away, hurrying to rinse the rag, and calm himself. He’d do the man’s feet and legs next, that was perfectly fine, there was no reason for him to be so unnerved. He’d seen the male form bared like that before. Why, every morning when he looked in the mirror, as a vain creature of the devil that he was, along with every time he bathed himself, he saw all that there could be. Among the many ways he differed from the ideal; limbs too long, jawline too sharp, and between his legs the emblem of sin and shame. He might have been slender and tall, but he was far from possessing any of the delicate and graceful beauty that the girls did.

Credence tucked a stray strand of his long dark hair behind an ear, and then exhaled slowly, before walking back over to the soldier on the bench. He then knelt at the man’s feet, scrubbing away the worst of the dirt which had slipped in past cracks in his shoes and holes in the soldier’s socks. After a few more moments, he was already wiping along the inside of the man’s calves, to his knees, and his thighs. Credence’s heart was back to thundering in his ears, and he hadn’t even been scrubbing that hard. One more rinse of the rag, and his hand fumbled as he reached for the piece of linen, just atop the soldier’s upper thighs. Maybe he could wash the man’s stomach next instead. Delay a little longer.

Credence bit his lip so hard it made his eyes sting with tears, and he tugged the fabric down before he could lose his nerve, revealing skin so pale, and fairly clean compared to the rest of his body. The pallor was no doubt from never seeing the sun, and always being tucked behind several layers of clothing. Water drops oozed down the side of the man’s abdomen, soaking into the sheet beneath him before Credence could swipe them away, and he hissed out a breath of worry, his other hand hurriedly moving the fabric away.

He held it like that for a moment, and his eyes darted over the expanse of the soldier’s bare hip. He dragged the wet rag over it too and continued down, until he’d met the part of the man’s leg he’d already cleaned, and he knew he was avoiding it now, the inner thigh area and just above, below the man’s navel.

Credence considered glancing around behind him to ensure no one had snuck in while he’d been working and agonizing about why that it was all so difficult, but there was no point pretending, or trying to hide. God was always watching.

He slipped his fingers under the edge of the linen and just tossed it aside in one frantic movement, making the man fully bare before him, but for the bandage on his ribs. Credence used the rag for an excuse to touch it, and pressed down, between the man’s legs, to properly clean his inner thighs, and what laid there.

It was soft of course, while the man remained in a resting state, but was plump and thicker than two of Credence’s fingers, not that he measured it, or touched it on purpose, but the rag may have grazed the length of it and back up, to wipe over the dark curls framing the root.

His mouth had gone dry, even as sweat was racing down his temples, and making his hair stick to his skin. He pulled his hand back like it had been burned, and felt nearly dizzy. He didn’t quite prevent himself from running to the pitcher and the water basin, dropping the rag down in favor of putting his face in his hands.

He’d done nothing wrong. There was no sin in giving a man a bath. The soldier had been utterly disgusting, covered in dirt and mud and filth from walking while hurt. To say nothing of the blood that had soaked his shirt. Credence realized a few moments after he’d been silently crying into his palms that he’d neglected the man’s own hands, as well as his arms.

How slothful of him.

He reluctantly rinsed the rag once more, and then hurried back over, rubbing over the wide shoulders and down each arm, to give careful consideration to his broad hands, only pausing for a moment, pretending as if he was shaking the soldier’s hand, thanking him for his silence, and his service. He wished he’d been brave enough to join the army too, though it was likely he’d have died very quickly. Credence wasn’t strong. He wasn’t good for anything but obeying the lord, as well as ma’s orders. He moved away from the bench once more, before remembering, he couldn’t leave the man _exposed_ as he was, what if ma came in?

Credence reached over and carefully put the pieces of linen back in place, and retrieved the pitcher and basin, tucking the rag into the bowl, paying the man one final glance before leaving the room, heart still pounding in his chest, perspiration now making the back of his neck itch.

 

* * *

 

 

“His hands were filthy. You saw. His nails were covered in dirt. You should shave that scraggly beard of his. I won’t have him getting something in the food. Go on now. You need to be finished within the hour so you can work on dinner with Modesty.”

Credence nodded, and tried to vanish into the wall as he clutched the water pitcher, basin with soap, and the blade in its case in his other hand.

He was being sent in to see the soldier, the man who called himself a Colonel by the name of John. It was a good Christian name, but the way he spoke, it was with an accent that Credence didn’t know, but ma called Well-to-do, foreign. _Irish_.

“Good morning.”

“Hello sir. Ma told me to come help you shave, sir. So that you may join us for dinner tonight.”

“How welcoming of her, thank you, lad. But there’s no need for you to help, surely I can manage meself-”

“No sir. Not with your injuries. You shouldn’t really be sitting up as it is. You could pull the careful stitching job the ladies did.”

Credence would have covered his mouth if he could have, for being so rude, arguing with an elder, even if he was a rather _un_ welcome guest, but the soldier, the man named John, didn’t look all that offended. In fact, he rather looked amused, half smiling at him, and shrugging.

“I don’t always obey orders me, obviously. But of course. You do what you like. Besides, I don’t really mind the company.”

John was already sitting more upright than he’d been all week, resting as he was against three pillows beneath his back, still wearing only the additional sheet that ma had ordered Credence to bring him, insisting that the uniform he’d arrived in was currently almost mended. His jacket and shirt had been washed and repaired, and the pants that Credence had not quite ravaged off of him were in bad shape, but he’d be able to wear them.

So for the moment, he was at their mercy, dressed as much as Adam had been in the garden, but with the blessing of bed clothing. Credence thought blasphemously, that there was no way on god’s green earth Adam had been _nearly_ as handsome as John was, cutting a fine figure simply resting in the music room, looking over at him like he wasn’t just a boring ordinary rotten hearted young boy, but something else entirely.

“I promise it won’t take long sir. You’ll be back to resting in no time.”

“I promise _you_ lad, I don’t mind. Just be gentle, aye? I’ve not been without a beard in a long time.” Credence couldn’t be sure, but he thought the man just might have been joking, considering the way things were, with a war and all raging on, perhaps it had even been months or years since he’d had the chance to do more than trim the thing properly. As it was, Credence himself was unlucky enough to be cursed with a smooth face, forever caught in between being too tall and ungainly to be feminine and too weak to be considered a man.

Credence carefully worked up a lather to spread over John’s cheeks and down his chin, before opening the razor and wiping it with the damp rag, eyeing the place he knew he should start, down the man’s neck, a few inches up from his collarbone. He could feel John’s pulse jumping under his skin, and it only succeeded in making him more nervous. He decided to hold his breath, and just pull the blade, angled just right over the stretch of white foam on brown hair. John’s eyes were focused somewhere on Credence’s own face, he thought, as he dragged his hand up, and away with an audible ‘ _swish’_ , revealing clean skin, streaked with foam.

“Yeh’ve got flecks of gold and green in your eyes there, lad. Did ye know that?”

Credence found himself ducking his head, hiding as much as he could behind the dark curtain of his hair, while still leaning over the man, and lining up the next swath of skin to shave.

“I don’t think so sir. They’re just plain brown, brown as mud.”  
John hummed, but politely waited to speak again until after Credence had made his next move, so he could shrink away and properly clean the blade on the rag, looking back only to catch the soldier smiling to himself, his own eyes sparkling.

“If yeh say so. But I see different.”

The next few moments passed in companionable silence, which Credence was thankful for, it was very hard to concentrate when being talked to, or even looked at by the handsome soldier whom he’d seen naked only a few days back, and now that he was thinking about it, he was doomed. Warmth bloomed in his cheeks and licked down his spine, settling between his legs, forcing him to let out a slow sigh; he would need to spend extra time in the lavatory before dinner, ma would not be pleased.

When he finished the last stroke, and turned to wipe the razor before putting it away, he then rinsed the rag out, and brought it back to the soldier’s face, not quite dripping, to ensure all the soap was cleaned away, and no stray hairs remained that he might have missed. He ended up kneeling on the bench, at the side of John’s hip, and as such, when he reached across to clean the opposite side of the soldier’s face, he found himself halfway over his bare chest. The comfortable position became one of compromise, and John was still staring at him, looking up into his eyes with a sort of clarity that made him more nervous that when he’d held a razor to the man’s neck.

“You’re trembling, me lad. What’s the matter now? Don’t tell me I frighten ye?”

Credence was finding it hard to speak, to breathe, to do anything but swallow his fear, and simply shake his head, denying what he could, while refusing to answer what he could not. One of the man’s hands burned into his waist, gripping him through his shirt, tucked in properly to his trousers, which were painfully tight, confining and making him start to sweat, right at his upper back where his shirt fabric would now stick to his skin. As Credence stared right back, finally allowing himself to observe John’s face, now freshly shaved, perfectly bare and most likely smooth as silk to the touch.

“Steady now. There’s a good lad. I’ll see ye at dinner, won’t I?”

Credence nodded, still reduced to a wordless reply as he then managed to move, to get up, and instantly free himself from the man’s grasp, gathering up the items he’d brought in, he received another smile in farewell, and a soft ‘ _good afternoon sir_ ’ slipped past his lips against his will.

 

* * *

 

 

Credence didn’t know what had made him do it, what reason on earth had forced him up to his feet and made him stride determinedly over to ma, right in the middle of final prayers, to ask to be pardoned. Her lip curled and her eyes narrowed as she asked why he couldn’t just _wait_ , but he lied, full out to her, and she waved him away with a hissed breath, before continuing, droning on as the girls just listened, and ignored that he’d ever been there in the first place. He’d simply been struck by the devil, an idea had taken root in his mind that refused to let go, until he’d just gone and done it, so he did. His feet carried him to the end of the hall, still stepping quietly, so that he could ease in close, open the door, and slip inside.

Inside John’s room, everything was quiet and still, almost colder than the rest of the house, no doubt due to being kept in perpetual darkness for most of the last few days. Ma had said he was almost healed, and soon enough they’d send him away, get rid of him for good when the next battalion of Confederate soldiers passed by.

Credence didn’t know why such a thought had struck him with fear, but it had, and he knew he would never sleep another restless night if he didn’t just _do_ it. He padded over as softly as he dared, and then knelt at John’s bedside. Well, he still rested atop the bench, with newly made sheets and freshly plumped pillows, but it was as close to a bed as it might ever be. Credence didn’t touch the man with a hand, merely leaned in and down, and pecked his mouth against the soldier’s.

It was quick.

Too fast, he wondered, to really count.

If one was going to sin, they should sin in earnest.

He’d already sinned plenty in the nights when he hadn’t slept. Instead, he would end up taking himself in hand, and touch his shameful erection until it went down, usually after spilling into his own hand or soaking against the front of his sleep pants, depending on if he wanted to take the time to wash them later, or consume the product he created from sin. Only then would he be able to fall asleep, to fitful dreams and barely restful nights.

He endeavored to try once more, so he ducked back down again, and that time, his hair fell free from the tie that had been growing loose all evening, making a soft curtain to frame their joining faces, their mingling lips, in case anyone happened to be passing by the window, who could see through drawn curtains.

Witches mainly, he suspected, they could surely do such a thing.

But oh, as he pulled back, retreating much slower, he was being _followed_.

John’s lips were no longer motionless beneath his own, and he rose up, chasing Credence who broke away with a gasp, and widened eyes. With apologies already welling up in his throat, as tears stung his eyes. The man exhaled a sigh, and then made a rumble in his chest that might have been a groan, reaching up and over, before Credence could retreat. Before he get up from his knees to make a run for the door, a hand grabbed his own, with a grip like iron.

Credence would have winced, if he hadn’t immediately stopped struggling. There was no point. A man like John, a soldier, would have no trouble hurting Credence if he really wanted to, and surely he did, for such a crime as that, he deserved no less than having his wrist broken, maybe his face slapped _and_ a finger snapped. He wasn’t sure, but he was already shaking, and John hadn’t even said a word, nor really moved yet.

Until he was dragging Credence’s hand down, down past the scrape of his bandages to the edge of the sheet, and lower, to below his navel and between his legs, making something stutter inside his chest, then grind slowly back into motion. His palm was now cupped over John’s groin, and there was no mistaking the hard lump he could feel, he knew his own cock’s swelling by nightly explorations.

“Lad, you’ve come to free me from my torment. Like a kiss from a fair maiden in the story books, except _you_ are that fair creature, and I, the sleeping damsel. It seems, we’ve both been miscast.”

Credence tried to shake his head, insist that in no way was it possible that he was anything of the kind, but John held him tighter, closer, he was nearly falling atop the man’s chest, guided back to his lips by nothing but instinct and pure raw need.

“Tell me you wish to go, and I’ll let ye.”

Credence’s mouth parted only to crash into John’s, and a true groan vibrated up through the man’s chest, as his hand pressed harder, and roughly moved their fingers together as one over his cock.

“I can’t-”

“Can’t make me go on like this? Aye. You taste like the sweetest wine, yet I know we all ate and drank the same things. How can this be?”

Credence was shaking his head in earnest, trying to move away, to hide from the man’s sure smile, and effortless charm.

“You don’t mean that. Please don’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s vile wickedness.”

John snorted what might have been a laugh, and his palm lightened slightly over Credence’s only so he could rub it higher,

“Is that what they’re calling it? I thought this was love, me lad. I’ve been making moon eyes at ye all week, and you’ve blushed and smiled and been as sweet as peaches. Tell me I’m wrong?”

It couldn’t, John couldn’t possibly mean it, he would never. Why, would such a strong and handsome man, a _soldier_ , be interested, be wrongly attracted to… Credence?

“Go on. Tell me lad. Be honest.”

“I think about you every night before I close my eyes.”

Credence’s voice sounded detached, as if coming from far away, yet all he noticed after the words left him, was how brightly John seemed to smile in the dark.

“And ye are the first thing I think about when I wake up. Tell me darlin,’ if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

Credence shuddered as the man’s lips dragged down his jawline, towards his neck, possibly intending to kiss him there, and he squeezed his fingers, delighting secretly in how he could feel it made John’s cock twitch below his hand.

“Anything? What would I have to pay?”

“Not a thing, not a thing. For you, I’d wrestle the stars from outta the sky, tell the moon it could only shine when you wished it. Anything. It’s yours. Name it.”

Credence licked his lips, and tilted his head away, freely offering his neck, which John kissed, and put a wet warm press of his tongue to, making stars burn and die in his vision before he could wrangle a stray thought together. All he wanted really, was to be out of there, to have a chance at life, a real one.

“To be taken far away from here.”

“As you wish. Hold me tight, and don’t let go.”

Credence blinked, startled slightly, and he felt the man’s hand flex around his wrist, not as tightly now, but still firmly grasping him.

“What?”

“I’ve not been me strongest, until I’ve been shown the motivation, the strength right before me. Not to fret lad, we’ll be home in a jiffy.”

The explanation, the questions, all became a whirl inside Credence’s head, as the ground vanished from beneath him, and something closed tight around his lungs and blinded his eyes. When it all stopped, when things settled and the air became breathable again, he realized he was on the floor, on all fours, hacking and coughing like he’d swallowed a chicken bone.

“I apologize. It’s always hard the first time. Outta nowhere and back somewhere. Oof, I’m a bit under dressed, don’t ye think? Let’s get that sorted. Last time I ever do a frightened wizard a favor, I’ll tell you.”

Credence sat up slowly, as the pounding in his head finally stopped, to find himself in a completely different set of surroundings, all culminating in something warm, welcome, and friendlier than the school had ever felt.

John was tugging on a navy bathrobe, and stepping into some shoes that were trimmed with fabric the same color, looking plush and comfortable as a newly made bed. Before Credence could speak, or try to, the man was stepping towards him, holding out a hand, wearing a kind smile.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Now lad, let’s have your name, shall we?”

“C-Cre-Credence sir.”

“Excellent. First things first, I’m not John. I mean, John is my middle name, but I don’t go by it formally. It’s Percival John Graves. But Percy’s just fine. No need for such formality when you practically saved my life.”

“I think you saved mine, actually.”

Interrupting, correcting, being rude in general was something Credence only dared do when his ma wasn’t around, and she certainly wasn’t there, but it only made John, or the soldier or man who _wasn’t_ John, a bit confused.

“Nonsense. Your one wish was so easy, in fact, I’d wager you deserve another. What’s something else you’ve always wanted? Just name it.”

As Credence watched, the man withdrew something from his sleeve, which shouldn’t have possibly been able to hold something so long and tapered, like a spear, but more an elegant short walking stick than any sort of weapon, and he flicked it into the air promptly, causing warmth to begin seeping into his skin. He turned to find a fireplace crackling merrily, from what had most certainly been an empty grate seconds before, and he knew suddenly what had happened to him.

He’d been spirited away by a witch.

He wasn’t sure if he was more grateful or frightened now.

The Union might have been dangerous, but at least they were all human.

Whatever not-John was, he would not be so easily defeated, or held back.

Credence couldn’t do what the man asked, not when something like exhaustion was creeping into his bones, and disbelief warred with his understanding deep inside his mind. Before he felt the ground give out beneath him again, that time strong arms were catching him, and lessening the fall, so that when it did occur, he landed on soft sheets, and dimly heard a voice wishing him some rest, and that they could discuss it all in the morning.

 

* * *

 

 

“This is the finest Irish whiskey outside the country, try it. If you don't like it, not to fret, I've got some good ol’ Tennessee swill if you prefer.”

John was laughing at his own joke, but smiling, so that Credence would know that he wasn't being made fun of. He’d woken up surrounded by such comfort and warmth that he'd been afraid he'd died and passed on. Then he thought about what ma would say when she noticed they had _both_ disappeared. Together. Before dinner even. She would have been furious. Credence no longer had to fear her, but somehow he could quite shake it.

“Thank you sir. I will gladly try it.”

Though the sun had barely risen, and they’d finished breakfast approximately an hour ago, John acted like the day drinking of the decadent rich southerners was something to emanate, not condemn.

“Forgive me, lad. But I really wish you wouldn’t call me that. We’re, uh, comrades. We’re more than acquaintances, are we not?”

Credence’s hand shook as he reached out to accept the glass politely offered, half full of amber liquid, the instrument of his doom, he knew,

“I cannot help my manners, sir. Instilled since birth.” He forced a smile, and then looked up to meet the man’s eyes, only to realize it was a mistake made, a moment later, when he found John watching him with something painfully earnest in his own brown gaze.

“Ye can be polite without insulting a man at the same time, lad. Tell me, what do you think I am?”

Credence took a brave swallow of the whiskey before answering, and barely hid his wince at the burn, as the liquid slid down his throat, threatening to choke him.

“More than a soldier, I do believe you might be the devil himself.”

John blinked, and then burst out laughing. That time there could be no mistake, he was laughing _at_ Credence.

“Dear me no. I wish I had the sort of magnificent power your people seem to believe he does. Perhaps the problem lies in that, yes? Believing something can hurt you just gives it the means to do exactly that.”

John downed his own whiskey in a practiced swig that Credence felt a pang of jealousy for, wishing he could be so numb to it that it didn’t affect him. Of course, it didn’t really, until he’d finished it, and been poured another, while his host continued to ramble on.

His vision didn’t blur and his morals didn’t slip, but his hands stilled and his heartbeat thundered, all the while his limbs became heavier, and his lips constantly dried, so he licked them every so often, until he caught John staring, right at his mouth.

The kiss.

The stolen moment he’d taken.

Just for himself, because he could.

Oh, how he burned to do it again.

They were alone.

Somewhere safe, he was perched on a chair beside the fire, while John sat upon a couch, lazily, effortless, careful of his injury, though he wore no bandages anymore, nothing was visible through his thin shirt but the dark shadow of chest hair. He wore shiny black trousers, loose fitting, comfortable, likely made of silk. He was sinfully sloth, comfortable back in his home, and Credence was an outside guest, feeling very out of place indeed.

He’d taken offered gifts of the man’s clothing, and it was ill fitting, but better than anything from his home, from his past life. It felt miles away now, as he sat, looking right back at his savior and soldier. Even if he was the devil, could Credence really deny how he’d meant every word he’d said? He wanted to go far away from that place he’d known as home for so long, and now he finally was.

“Your mind is moving a mile a minute lad. Tell me, what made you come see me last night, why then?”

Credence’s mouth was still dry, so he took another sip of whiskey, and barely noticed the pain of swallowing now, he was pleasantly light, dizzy a bit, as if he’d been out in the sun for too long without water. Without his consent, his body was rising, walking closer, perching gingerly on the opposite side of the couch, so he could better see John, and pretend that he wasn’t a sinful wretch who wanted nothing more than to fling himself into those strong arms he knew could carry him.

“I just… wanted to say goodnight.”

“With a kiss? Aye. A pleasant send off indeed. I should thank you then. You bolstered my energy. My magic hasn’t been the same since I decided, foolishly, to join the war for a cause I didn’t even believe in. They called me a mercenary. Soldier of the devil. Fitting, I suppose.”

Credence gulped, and then nodded, clutching his almost empty glass like it was the last line of defense he had for his own wants and desires. He didn’t even notice when John moved closer, indeed, he’d been too lost inside his own head, wondering what to say next, then a hand was reaching down, and plucking away the glass, gently setting it aside, so that his hand could be framed between the man’s own.

“You’re strong, and brave. Yeh’ve not fought in a war, but ye don’t have to, to know whatever you went through there, in what should have been a place of comfort, was anything but. You’re safe now, here, with me. I swear, if you do not wish it, I will leave ye be. Somehow, that kiss makes me think otherwise.”

Credence blinked, and two tears dripped down his cheeks. He hadn’t even realized he was on the verge of crying until John had said that. The truth was always harder than a lie, hence it was a tool of the devil’s.

“Shh-hh now, none of that, lad. Yer far too lovely to be sad. Not when the whole world could be yours.”

Credence choked on a sob, and finally looked away from their joined hands to see John watching him, a kind smile curving his mouth.

“You… you think I’m-” He couldn’t even put it to words, it was too fantastical, ridiculous. How could he be anything of worth, worldly standards of beauty wise? To say nothing of the man before him, who was everything a man _should_ be. Strong, handsome, kind hearted and gentle, yet able to fight in a war if needed. He truly was a man of god, even if he had yet to confess and accept the lord.

“Indeed. In all my travels, throughout the world, I’ve never seen such a delicate beauty as yourself. May I have the honor?”

John’s hand drifted up from where he’d been pressing Credence’s hand between his own, and touched his face, thumb caressing his cheek, which made his heartbeat thud, and his skin hot.

“What do you mean-”

“A kiss, darlin, may I kiss you?”

Credence found himself crying as he nodded, surely a far from attractive picture, but John merely smiled again, and then shifted his hand, cupping the back of his jaw, and drawing him near, just enough to let their lips meet once more. With them both drinking the same whiskey, Credence didn’t expect there to be anything different there, yet the man tasted of spice, and smoke, ashen honey and setting sunshine.

Even though it was midday and the true sun was just barely reaching the midpoint in the sky, still Credence continued writing shoddy poetry in his mind, all from such a simple gesture. Before long, he needed to breathe, and he had to be the one to break away. John was panting, his hand trembling against Credence’s neck, and he wondered how, could such a thing have unmoored him just as much?

“There is so much I want, but I don’t wish to frighten ye, me lad.”

“What do you mean?”

John leaned in to press their foreheads together, so that they were breathing the same air, but not quite kissing again yet.

“I made you touch me. Feel me, hold me in yer hand. It was far too forward of me. I apologize. Things like that… moments shared between lovers. It is all I dream about since I first met ye.”

The warm buzzing through Credence’s veins threatened to flare into an inferno, and he found himself listing closer, just barely brushing his lips against John’s,

“Is it, what is there, what could we do? Would you be able to… make love to me?”

His voice broke on the words, but it was something he knew of, the bible spoke of it often, not always in such glowing terms, when it wasn’t between a married man and woman, but the girls had talked, they had giggled and whispered, and Credence managed to catch the gist of it all.

“Ay. It would be my sincere pleasure.”

John’s other hand drifted from his hand down to graze his outer thigh, hidden behind fabric of borrowed clothing, but burning into his skin nevertheless, making Credence’s pulse jump.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Come with me.”

He stood up slowly, careful, as if not wanting to startle Credence, as he pulled him along, with a hand once more entwining in his own fingers, and he walked them towards John’s bedroom. Credence couldn’t help swallowing his nerves, and doing his best not to stumble. The whiskey was making him dizzy still, but he wasn’t sure if there was some overlap from his arousal and desire or not. The room was dark, cooler, without any crackling fire, and somehow entirely welcoming in its own right.

“Do you mind if I use some magic, give us some gentle starlight? The sun may be too harsh this high.”

Credence could only nod, and watch in awe as John’s free hand rose up, fingers dipping and swirling in the empty air, before silvery light illuminated them both, as artificial stars winked into existence above them, not quite as high as the ceiling, but not low enough to touch.

Was that the work of the devil? Perhaps all along, Credence had been seeking to serve the wrong master.

“It’s beautiful sir.”

“Please, _please,_ me lad. Just Percy.”

Right. Credence needed to stop thinking of him as _‘John,_ ’ when he knew that wasn’t his true proper first name. He rather thought he couldn’t help it. He’d cleaned John, he’d shaved John’s beard, and he’d kissed John awake, but now he was with Percy, the most incredible man he’d ever known.

The gentle light made Percy’s brown eyes sparkle, and Credence got a bit distracted staring at him, even as the man's hands cupped his face, and he closed the distance in between them for another kiss. Before long, he was panting for air again, and scrabbling for a hold on the man's shirt, tempted to rip it off, if possible. Instead, it seemed to melt away under his touch, leaving Credence’s hands to make contact with Percy’s bare chest, as his fingers splayed on warm skin.

A gasp escaped his lips and Percy sighed,

“Sorry, got a bit in a hurry, lad. Do yeh mind if I take yours off by hand?”

Credence could only shake his head, and let the man's hands trail down his sides from his face and neck, before his fingers curled under the hem of his shirt, lifting slowly, until he was forced to let go of the man to allow it off completely. He was breathing hard, but not from lack of air, merely because the room felt as if it was trying to close in on him, as if the space between them was all in his head, and he merely had to relax to make it go away. Now that they were both naked from the waist up, Credence shivered, not from cold, for how could he be so, when arousal coiled so hot under his skin, through his lungs, rasping for air. While Percy let his hands rest on Credence’s narrow waist, before nudging in, daringly kissing along his jawline and down, licking gently and nipping slightly at the curve where his neck met his shoulder.

“Would you like to sit down on the bed?”

Credence nodded, wordlessly and allowing himself to be led once again, Percy sat first, so that he had nowhere to go but the man’s lap, which seemed a most excellent idea as he landed, with his slim legs framing the man’s broad thighs. Now he could _feel_ the man’s own heartbeat stuttering beneath his palms when they landed atop his shoulders, as their lips met once more.

He was not frightened of what was occurring, only anxious, hoping he was doing well, that he would not make Percy grow bored and-

“Hey, me lad... What’s going on up there?”

Percy’s hands left his waist to spread against his lower back and cup his cheek again, leaving Credence feeling grounded, and secure once more, he couldn’t help but smile, even as his eyes stung with tears.

“It feels like a dream.”

“It’s only because I’m so in love with yeh, I hope ye won’t mind me saying so.”

He’d said as much before, almost, but hearing it now, like that, as they were becoming tangled among one another, intent to do more, Credence could only shake his head.

“Please, you can say whatever you wish. I just, still can’t believe you’re real.”

“M’here. With you. Under you. Growing a bit hot in the collar meself. Mind if I take these off?”

He gestured between them, and Credence’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing the man fully exposed beneath him again, but he could only nod, delirious, and somewhat dazedly, while Percy shifted back, and laid down proper so that he was looming atop him, the rest of their clothing vanished.

Skin to skin, Credence could no longer ignore his arousal in the form of his achingly hard cock, now that he was perched over Percy, the slightest movement made their cocks meet, and rub together.

“Christ, me lad, you’re damned lovely. Kiss me and let me see you fall apart.”

Credence didn’t know what he meant by that, but he leaned down and pressed his mouth against Percy’s own, while he surged up to meet him halfway, both hands splayed over his hips, before one dipped in lower to curl fingers around his cock, forcing a gasp out against the kiss, and a shiver to run down his spine.

“So soft, and sensitive, yeh’ll break my heart at this rate.”

Credence swore stars and sparks were exploding behind his eyelids, as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against the man’s shoulder, panting into his skin, letting his hips jerk slightly with every thrust against Percy’s hand, a slight twirl of his wrist and slow downstroke made a low whine leave his throat.

“Please, please, _please_ .”   
He didn’t know what he was asking for exactly, but Percy seemed to understand, as his thumb swiped roughly over the dripping head of his cock, and Credence’s lips parted on a moan, he could feel the man chuckling beneath him.

“That’s it, just let go for me, Credence.”

He thought just kissing the soldier had been out of a dream, but that was even better, as pleasure crested and ebbed throughout his whole body, he shivered and thrust his hips jerkily with every pulse, until he stilled, and realized he’d made a mess of the man’s stomach and chest. That was to say nothing of the white spend dripping off Percy’s fingers, which he drew away, and put to his lips, licking at them, cleaning them with obscene wet noises.

“What-?”

“Did you see heaven’s light, me lad? That’s what they always called it, hear angels singing any other time besides Christmas eve. Of course, it’s a much bigger deal here than it twas at home.”

Credence felt shaky, and even as he mustered the strength to move off, and roll away from Percy to fall onto his back on the bed, he didn’t really have the power of speech yet.

The man seemed to understand that as well, and when Credence recovered enough to look back over, his heart thudded at the sight of Percy slowly touching himself, simply humming and eyeing him, a hand skittering over his bare hip, and down to grab his own hand, with his free one. He noticed with a start that Percy was stroking his cock with the same hand he’d used to get Credence off, still somewhat shiny with saliva rather than his release.

“Did you want me to-”

“Only do what you want, me lad.”

Credence got onto his side, and stared down at the point of contact, where Percy’s cock would emerge through his wrapped fingers, clear drops of fluid oozing out to ease the movements, and his mouth suddenly watered.

“Can I put my mouth on it?”

“ _Christ._ Aye, if you like.”

Credence knew even less about what it was to do such a thing, he just knew he wanted to, very badly. So he first put his mouth to the man’s again, and kissed him languidly, like they had all the time in the world, and they did. He put his shaking hands to the man’s sides, and petted down his abdomen, before reaching between his legs, where he faltered. Just like the day he’d been trying to merely bathe Percy, he was afraid, startled, by the feel of such a thing.

Now hard, Percy’s length was so much thicker than his own, and resting proudly against his thigh, too heavy to rise up and curve into his stomach like Credence’s did, with a cherry red and glistening head, he couldn’t help but wonder how it would taste. He dipped down to just barely graze his lips, parted slightly, over the side and to swirl his tongue over the tip, but Percy’s reaction was immediate, a bucking of his hips, and a low groan rumbled through his chest.

He took it as an encouragement for more, so he took the man’s cock into his mouth further, and properly rubbed his tongue against the underside, wondering how it could possibly compare to a hand, with the way Percy continued to make noises, exceedingly pleased ones, along with little gasps and soft pleas for more. He had closed his eyes while leaning in further, until his nose met the soft dark curls at the base of Percy’s cock, and he hummed, putting one of his hands from his chest into Credence’s hair, not painfully, just tugging gently as his fingers carded through his long waves.

“I may be close, do you want to-?”

Credence couldn’t shake his head, as he was, but he did squeeze his hand over the man’s thigh, and ensure him it was alright, he was prepared. Even though he really wasn’t, as Percy’s body quaked through his climax, his cock spilled down Credence’s throat and over the back of his tongue, surprising him with more of the bittersalt taste. When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of the man’s chest heaving, and how his neck was bared, as his back arched. He was handsome already, but like that, infinitely more intimate and stunning to behold. Credence decided that yes, he could fall in love with Percival John Graves.

“Credence, me lad, yer far from what I expected, no wilting flowers to be found here.”

Strong hands urged him upwards, and pulled him in for a kiss, which Credence blushed at, knowing the man would taste himself on his tongue, before a hand settled at the base of his spine, massaging his skin soothingly.

“Have we done it? Was this how men can make love?”

Beneath him Percy chuckled, a bit breathless, and then shook his head,

“No sweetheart, not quite. This was just a small example. No less lovely for it.”

“Oh.”

He snuggled closer, tucking his cheek against the man’s chest, listening to his heartbeat settle once more, as Percy turned to press a kiss to Credence’s forehead, sweaty from his efforts and his own previous orgasm.

“Don’t fret. We have plenty of time. A nap will do ye good. I’ll be needin to get up soon meself though. Ensure we have a decent bite for lunch. After an early drink, it’s important to stay hydrated.”

Credence didn’t know he was pouting, he didn’t even know what it meant, but his face scrunched up and he clung harder to Percy’s chest and arms,

“No, please, don’t go yet.”

“So easily attached to me now? Simply from that?” Credence couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Percy was amused, and he rubbed over his back a bit more, before seeming to decide to stay.

“Alright, me lad. A few minutes more.”

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually Credence had let him pull away, and go get somewhat dressed to return back out to the kitchen, but when he emerged and clad himself only in the man’s shirt, padding out barefoot to the dining room, he was delighted to see Percy actually freeze in shock, drinking in the sight of him.

“Here yeh are presenting a more appetizing vision than the dinner I’ve fixed for us. That’s a bit unfair, don’t ye think?”

“Sorry?”

Percy chuckled low, and stepped around from the counter to pull him in for a hug, a soft embrace he’d only ever experienced the once, when they traveled there in the first place. Then a kiss was granted to his cheek, and the man pulled away, reaching for plates and dishes filled with food,

“Beautiful Credence, accept this humble offering of my skills, promise yeh won’t laugh if ye taste something you do not like?”

Credence would never be so rude to do such a thing, but he nodded anyway, and Percy beamed at him,

“Excellent. Dig in.”

The meal was wonderful, perhaps the best thing he’d ever had, and that was after enjoying a deliciously cooked breakfast earlier in the day, followed by irish whiskey. Now with dinner, they were enjoying ice water with a wedge of lemon, just to provide a crisp relief from the heat that lingered even after the sun had set. Even with fans blowing and cooling charms supposedly working, the night air would not be brisk for a few more hours.

“I cannot believe I needed the fireplace last night. But I suppose that woman kept my room cold for a reason. Hoping perhaps it might urge me into an early grave.”

Credence sobered at once at such a thought, and shook his head,

“Ma would never wish ill on anyone, even an enemy.”

“Don’t be so sure lad. She didn’t even know what I truly was. I suspect I’d have been in worse danger still.”

If there was anything ma hated more than Union soldiers, it was witches.

When the dinner dishes had been cleared away, and were set to cleaning themselves in the sink while Credence watched, slack jawed in awe, Percy came over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, before leaning in for another kiss, a proper one, over his mouth.

“Will you make love to me now?”  
Percy sighed,

“I wasn’t intending to rush things. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Credence bit his lip, and then nodded, reaching up to wrap his arms around the man’s neck and shoulders, bringing him back so close he could taste the tartness of lemon on his breath,

“Please.”

Percy groaned at that, as if unable to refuse him as he was so politely begging. In a flash, they were back in the bedroom, and the man was kissing him fiercely, urging him back to the bed, so that now Credence was pinned beneath Percy’s strengthened body, his legs opening easily to allow him even closer, rutting his cock against his own.

“Dear lord sweetheart, yeh are so responsive, so sensitive, I’m not sure how long I’ll last.”

“Just… anything, please.”

Another groan, and Percy had vanished their clothing in a heartbeat, letting his hand meet Credence’s bare hip, grasping at the overheated flesh to keep him close, grinding back down, right against his own cock, forcing a gasp from his lips.

“I’m going to touch you, alright? Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“No.”

Percy was chuckling somewhat, and then reaching between Credence’s legs, below his cock and past his sack, to nudge a finger right against the tight pucker of his hole, making him jump, as his cock twitched and dripped onto his stomach.

“Oh!”

“Yes, that’s it. _This_ is how I’ll make love to you, me lad.”

Credence’s eyes fell shut as Percy kissed down his neck once more, and whispered something into his skin, before the touch of his hand was cooler, slippery as he rubbed over his ass, and eased a fingertip just past the rim.

He was shaking so badly it felt he might shatter into a million pieces from anything more, but Credence was determined to ride out the waves till the end, and Percy was happy to oblige, gradually adding a second finger, pressing in completely, testing how he reacted. His cock was steadily leaking onto his skin, and Credence thought he might cry from how badly he wanted to come, even without a single touch to it.

“Good?”

Percy asked, breathing into his neck, kissing right below his ear, and he nodded, mindless, drowning in just _how_ good it was.

“More?”

“Please!”

He didn’t mean to shout, or even whine, but that was how his voice broke, upon the addition of a third, surely rubbing against something that might white out his vision were it to keep up. The thickness of Percy’s fingers more than matched his cock, so that Credence could understand when he was ready for the man to properly thrust himself inside, bringing them together as one. Percy retreated, withdrawing his hand to apply additional slick to his length, and Credence whimpered at the loss of sensation, until he felt the blunt head of the man’s cock at his somewhat pliant hole, before pressing further.

Credence was barely aware of anything Percy might have been saying, murmuring low at his ear, hands drifting down his sides, urging his legs open wider, guiding them to frame the man’s hips, but he could press back, could roll his hips with every subsequent movement, and cling frantically to the man’s shoulders as a litany of pleas left his mouth, mingling with repeats of the man’s name.

“So tight, so warm, darlin you’re going to ruin me. I love ye, Credence, ye hear?”

He nodded and kissed Percy with the last vestiges of his strength, as he could feel his climax beginning to claw through him, making his back arch and his toes curl, as his cock twitched between their bodies, spilling untouched onto his stomach, every nerve sparking. Percy slowed his movements, every thrust and drag of friction enough to make Credence moan and shudder through what felt like near endless aftershocks, before there was a blooming of heat inside him, from the man’s spend filling him with each careful press.

He collapsed atop Credence, only for a moment, but the weight was a welcome and grounding sensation, it finally felt like he’d fallen back to earth from reaching the clouds and kissing the stars. Percy then pulled back and out of him, to roll onto his side, panting for air. His hand found Credence’s, and their fingers linked, while his other hand rose to stroke over the damp waves upon his brow.

“Was that-?”

“Yes sweetheart. Now we’ve made love.”

Credence couldn’t help the smile that blossomed over his face, and he was near giddy, wanting to laugh and shout from the rooftops how amazing he felt, but he contented himself by turning over, and resting against Percy’s chest, barely noticing the low murmur of something that had to be magic, cleaning between his legs and his spend from his skin, leaving them both dry and cooler, resting easily over the sheets.

Exhaustion was darkening the edges of his vision, but he had the energy for one last kiss, even if he didn’t make it to Percy’s mouth, the closest bit would do, his scar, right over his chest, silver compared to the rest of his golden tanned skin. It made Percy’s breath catch, and Credence smiled again, humming to himself as he drifted off.

 

* * *

 

 

**END**

  
  



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